he deck.

At 8 o'clock there was a great banquet, many fine speeches, good fare
and excellent wine, pretty ladies, music, and dancing till far into
the night.

Next morning at 11 o'clock--it was Sunday--in bright, sunshiny weather,
we stood northward over Bergen Fjord, many friends accompanying us. It
was a lovely, never-to-be-forgotten summer day. In Herloe Fjord, right
out by the skerries, they parted from us, amid wavings of hats and
pocket-handkerchiefs; we could see the little harbor boat for a long
while with its black cloud of smoke on the sparkling surface of the
water. Outside, the sea rolled in the hazy sunlight; and within lay the
flat Mangerland, full of memories for me of zoological investigations
in fair weather and foul, years and years ago. Here it was that one of
Norway's most famous naturalists, a lonely pastor far removed from
the outer world, made his great discoveries. Here I myself first
groped my way along the narrow path of zoological research.

It was a wondrous evening. The lingering flush of vanished day
suffused the northern sky, while the moon hung large and round over
the mountains behind us. Ahead lay Alden and Kinn, like a fairyland
rising up from the sea. Tired as I was, I could not seek my berth;
I must drink in all this loveliness in deep refreshing draughts. It
was like balm to the soul after all the turmoil and friction with
crowds of strangers.

So we went on our way, mostly in fair weather, occasionally in fog
and rain, through sounds and between islands, northward along the
coast of Norway. A glorious land--I wonder if another fairway like
this is to be found the whole world over? Those never-to-be-forgotten
mornings, when nature wakens to life, wreaths of mist glittering like
silver over the mountains, their tops soaring above the mist like
islands of the sea! Then the day gleaming over the dazzling white
snow-peaks! And the evenings, and the sunsets with the pale moon
overhead, white mountains and islands lay hushed and dreamlike as a
youthful longing! Here and there past homely little havens with houses
around them set in smiling green trees! Ah! those snug homes in the lee
of the skerries awake a longing for life and warmth in the breast. You
may shrug your shoulders as much as you like at the beauties of nature,
but it is a fine thing for a people to have a fair land, be it never so
poor. Never did this seem clearer to me than now when I was leaving it.

Every now and t